Going Dating
by mryddinwilt
Summary: Sherlock and Molly are embarking on a relationship. Full of misunderstandings, fluff, and awkward social situations this fic will chronicle their growth as a couple. Set during His Last Vow. Goes along with "Going to Hospital" but can be read alone.
1. Chapter 1

**This continues where Going to Hospital left off. However it can be read alone. All you need to know is there is a semi-established Sherlolly relationship. As always thanks for reading!**

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Three weeks ago Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes spent the majority of an afternoon together in a hospital room. That afternoon resulted in a revelation for both the kind hearted pathologist and the guarded detective. That same day John and Mary Watson had very different revelations about each other. All these revelations were life changing but the whys and hows of those changes will take a bit of explanation.

In the three weeks after his revelation Sherlock spent the majority of his time in hospital. Despite being a genius Sherlock didn't understand that when a doctor told him to stay in bed it wasn't a suggestion. Of course he had very good reasons for leaving the hospital but that didn't make it any less of a bad idea. Sherlock's recovery had been very slow and very torturous for both the detective and the hospital staff.

Whenever Molly made her way to his room she was cheerfully greeted and she noticed the relieved looks of the nurses. Her friend Grant informed her that Sherlock was always easier to deal with after her visits. This information was tucked away in the corner of Molly's heart that was reserved for Sherlock. Truthfully the corner was taking up more and more space these days; which probably explains why her heart felt on the verge of bursting.

Molly's visits varied in length. When Sherlock already had a visitor she found herself filling the role of friendly pathologist. Sherlock never said it out loud but Molly sensed that he was uncomfortable revealing the change in their relationship to their small circle of friends. Mrs. Hudson or Greg always welcomed her and they would have a lively conversation. Occasionally a member of the Holmes family would be in the room. Minnie and Teddy Holmes never revealed that they knew Molly and Sherlock never introduced them. Rather when Molly arrived, he would give his parents a narrow look and they would graciously and quickly exit the room. The one time Mycroft was there Sherlock pretended Molly was delivering lab results for a case. Molly didn't correct him.

More often Molly found John Watson sitting with his friend. Intellectually she knew that Sherlock was the one who had taken a bullet to the gut but John always looked like he was the one in need of medical attention. Molly never stayed long when John was there. If she saw him through the window she wouldn't even go in. Instead she would try to wave at Sherlock before turning and leaving the hospital. She wanted to give the doctor his space and time with his best friend.

Molly's favorite visits occurred when Sherlock was all alone. On those visits Sherlock would greet her with a smile. Molly would approach his bed and lean down to kiss him. They would sit and talk for as long as they could; indulging in holding hands or casual touches like brushing hair from each others face. At these times Molly felt valued and loved. These were her favorite visits.

They were also Sherlock's favorite visits. The injured detective's feelings for Molly were growing daily. She always came with something to keep his brain active. She knew how boring the hospital must be and unlike John she didn't chide him for getting frustrated. Instead she brought him interesting lab results, autopsy reports, or cases. If he didn't feel like talking or was engrossed in his mind palace Molly didn't demand attention. She seemed content to just sit and be with him. She was equally happy to discuss John or Mary and Sherlock's plans to trap Magnusson. Everything she did seemed attuned to his wants and needs. Well almost everything. Sherlock wasn't sure why but Molly wanted their relationship to be a secret.

Sherlock had been enduring a lecture from Mrs. Hudson when Molly arrived. Sherlock had expected Molly to kiss him, sit by him, grab his hand or any of the other things she normally did. He was rather looking forward to the incredulous expression on Mrs. Hudson's face when she realized that Molly was now much more than his pathologist. But Molly never approached his bed. Instead she talked with Mrs. Hudson and barely glanced at Sherlock for the first 10 minutes. Sherlock observed Molly and noted how nervous she appeared. He might have asked about her behavior once they were alone but when Mrs Hudson left she pressed Molly to eat lunch with her. They left together and Sherlock had only his deductions. He came to the conclusion that Molly didn't want to share the existence of their new relationship.

He didn't understand why she felt this way; after all he was very keen that everyone know. Normally Sherlock would have done just what he wanted, however he was trying to respect Molly's feelings. He made sure to always treat her as his pathologist around their friends and acquaintances. It was difficult and confusing but Sherlock was willing to pretend around others if it made Molly more comfortable. Of course it didn't make Molly more comfortable but Sherlock Holmes was not yet a master at understanding human nature.

"Grant told me they are releasing you this week." Molly remarked at the end of one of their rare afternoons alone.

"Yes. They think I am ready and since John is at the flat they believe I will be well taken care of." Sherlock responded. Molly felt a twitch of jealousy at his remark. She wanted to be the one to take care of Sherlock. But since their relationship was a secret she knew it was out of the question. Although Sherlock was, at that very moment, trying to figure out a way to ask her that very question. He too would much rather have Molly helping him.

"That's good. John needs to stay busy right now." She reasoned before asking; "So you won't be taking cases for awhile?"

Sherlock was eager to take cases but knew that he wasn't yet up to his full strength. "Maybe a few but nothing higher than a seven. I won't need to leave the flat to solve those."

"Oh." a look of disappointment crossed her face "so…uh…you won't be coming to St. Barts for awhile?" Molly tried to sound nonchalant but the answer to this question was very important. Ever since Grant had mentioned Sherlock's impending release she had wondered how often she would see him. Since everyone still thought of her has his pathologist she couldn't imagine how they would see each other outside of the hospital.

"Not for cases. But I might be persuaded to do a few experiments." he grinned, remembering that their last experiment at St. Bart's had involved lots of kissing. Conveniently he forgot the fight that immediately followed the kissing. Molly didn't understand his reference but took comfort from his smile.

"I didn't think about experiments." Molly said, her anxiety easing with the knowledge that Sherlock would create reasons to see her.

When Sherlock finally returned to 221B Baker Street Molly didn't go and visit him. Instead she sent him a few texts and patiently waited for him to come to St. Barts for an experiment. At the same time Sherlock was hourly expecting Molly to knock on his door. He saw no reason why she couldn't come and visit. After all Lestrade and Anderson had both dropped by, clearly such visits were appropriate for friends.

Sherlock assumed that Molly was working extra shifts at Bart's to make up for all the time she had spent in his hospital room. Then he discovered that she had lunch with Mrs. Hudson. The next day Lestrade complained about her being absent and unavailable for a case. Sherlock concluded that Molly was choosing to spend her time away from him. Although he didn't admit it (not even to himself) this thought scared him. It scared him because he wanted to spend lots of time with Molly and it seemed she didn't feel the same. Such unbalanced affection had always ended in heartache for Sherlock Holmes.

When Sherlock didn't show up at St. Bart's Molly tried to reason that he was still recovering and that a trip to the lab would be too hard. But she still missed him and wished every day that there was no secrecy. Having to hide their relationship made Molly feel like it wasn't a real relationship. She began to wonder how deeply Sherlock cared for her. She worried that once he could immerse himself in cases he would forget all about her.

In this way a stalemate developed. Four days passed and while both were eager to see the other, neither wanted to be the one to ask. Molly didn't want to intrude. Sherlock didn't want to force her to spend time with him. They both grew frustrated. This frustration might have built, eventually destroying the new relationship before it ever really started, if not for the help of Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.

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**So they are off to a rocky start but the course of true love and all that! **

**Review if convenient. **

**If inconvenient review anyways! **


	2. Chapter 2

It was late afternoon but the end of a very long shift for Molly Hooper when Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade arrived to retrieve some evidence. Normally such work was below the DI but Greg enjoyed talking to Molly. He had just closed a case and was in high spirits when he breezed into the lab. Molly was tired but smiled when she greeted him. They dispensed with the work quickly and Greg turned the conversation to more personal topics.

"How ya been Molls?" Greg asked.

"Fine. Just tired." Molly replied. She didn't mention her lack of sleep or that it's cause was confusion over Sherlock. Greg naturally assumed she was working too hard. He also assumed that Molly was using work to avoid thinking about her break-up with Tom. It was a tactic Greg had used often with his own relationship issues.

"Long shift?" he asked. Molly checked her watch.

"The longest. But I am off in ten minutes." It occurred to Greg that Molly needed a change of scenery, something other than work or Tom to think about.

"Oh really? Well I was going to drop by Baker Street. You should come with. Sherlock had been in a foul mood since he came home from hospital. It's mildly entertaining. Then after we can grab a drink or something." Greg concluded with a grin. Molly grinned back, thoughts of finally seeing Sherlock filling her with excitement. But then her doubts came rushing back and her grin faltered.

"Are you sure it will be okay?" she said with a slightly furrowed brow. Greg thought he understood her worry.

"Of course. And if he is rude I will pop him." Greg's promise of violence did little to easy Molly's fears. Luckily Greg wouldn't accept no and waited for her shift to end. He filled the time with stories about Anderson and a recent case. Then he waited patiently while Molly changed. Before she knew it they were parking his NSY issued sedan on Baker Street and her stomach was twisting uncomfortably.

Greg raised is hand to rap on the door, knowing that Sherlock's bell was semi-permanently broken. His knuckles fell on air as the door opened on Mrs. Hudson. She was on her way to the shops and didn't have time to chat.

"Here to see Sherlock." she said with a smile before gesturing behind her "Go on up." Then she caught sight of Molly.

"Hello dear. Lovely to see you! I must run." And before Molly could respond she was gone.

Greg and Molly climbed the stairs to Sherlock's flat. With each step Molly grew more anxious. Unsure how Sherlock would receive her and even more unsure how she would act around him.

Greg gave a light tap on the open door before striding inside with Molly trailing behind. A glance of the room revealed it to be empty of the consulting detective and Molly let out her breath in a sigh. The only occupant of the room was Dr. John Watson and he was staring into the fire, not yet registering their entrance.

"John?" Greg called questioning. The DI wasn't aware that John had moved back into Baker Street. When John didn't answer Greg walked over to his chair and spoke. "John." John seemed to pull himself from his contemplation of the fire. He passed a hand over his eyes and dragged it down his face before looking up.

"Greg." he blinked. "Molly." Greg looked at Molly with concern.

"Ya alright mate?" Greg asked.

"Fine. Fine." came the response. Greg chose not to comment on the lie.

"Where is Sherlock? Sleeping?" Greg asked in an effort to change the subject.

"Oh. He is out." John waved his hand to indicate he had no idea where his best friend had gone.

"Out? He isn't well enough to be out" Molly said with frustration. John and Greg both looked at her with furrowed brows.

"Try telling him that." John replied with a small smirk "He is actually doing quite well. He has been out a few times already."

Molly felt deflated. Her last hope was that Sherlock's absence from St. Bart's was because he was still recovering. Now she was faced with the possibility that Sherlock just didn't want to see her.

"Oh." she managed to reply. But the conversation had already moved on. John and Greg were sharing snarky comments about Sherlock. She interrupted them.

"I'll go make some tea." she didn't wait for their response and quickly escaped into the kitchen.

As she rattled around the small space she tried to focus on her task. Blocking out the low voices of the men in the other room and desperately trying not to think of the man that was missing. When she emerged with the tea tray she was shocked to see John pulling on his coat.

"I'm taking John to the pub." Greg announced "he needs something stronger than tea right now." While Molly was in the kitchen John had confided in Greg about his marital issue. He hadn't used specifics but Greg was an expert in marriage problems and he knew exactly how to help the younger doctor.

Greg looked apologetically at Molly. "Sorry. I think this should be a lads' night."

She nodded. "Ok."

Greg grinned. "Thanks Molls. I owe you a drink." he said before disappearing down the stairs.

Molly stood lost in thought in the middle of the flat, the tea tray still in hand. After a minute she turned and placed the tea things on the kitchen table. She poured herself a cup and then walked back into the room. Her eyes bounced from Sherlock's to John's chair, momentarily unsure where to sit. Then she gave a little laugh, she was all alone in the flat, it didn't matter where she sat.

She sank into Sherlock's chair, her legs curling under her, and sipped her tea. Her mind turning over her experiences and relationship with Sherlock. She never intended to stay long. She was going to drink her tea and head home. But the warmth of the fire, the soothing power of the tea, and her own fatigue were a potent combination; within a few minutes she had drifted off to sleep.

It was in that position that Sherlock found her twenty minutes later. When his taxi pulled up to his door he noticed Greg's car and assumed the DI was waiting for him. Sherlock hoped the Detective Inspector had a case to distract him because his obsession with Molly Hooper was getting out of hand. He had left the flat to track down his best homeless network spy. He wanted her to follow Molly because he needed to know how she was spending her time. He especially wanted to know if she had seen Tom. The errand had proved fruitless because the woman had temporary left London. A frustrating development that only added to Sherlock's exhaustion. He was still not completely recovered from his wound and his trip was harder than he anticipated. He took the stairs to 221B slowly unsure if he even wanted to take a case.

He opened his door and stepped into his flat; his hands already pulling at his scarf. His eyes searched the room before locking on Molly. His mouth dropped open and he briefly wondered if he was hallucinating. He took a few cautious steps into the flat, confirming that they were alone from the lack of John's coat and the cooling tea. He looked at her again and, after noticing the way the firelight played with the color of her hair, he deduced. He brushed aside the trivial details of her lunch and work habits and focused on the evidence of her exhaustion. He studied her for several minutes.

If Molly Hooper could see the look in his eyes her doubts about his feelings would fall away. But then if Molly was awake Sherlock would not be looking at her so unguarded. In fact if Molly had been awake when Sherlock arrived she would have experienced a very cold and distant reception. Such was the level of Sherlock's frustration and insecurity that he would have pushed her away. And Molly probably would have let him, reasoning all their experiences in the hospital away with explanations of drug euphoria and near-death excitement. Fortunately, Molly was asleep and all of Sherlock's anger and frustration melted away as he watched her.

Surprisingly, he found himself kneeling in front of her his hands on the arm rest as he stared intently. A wisp of hair fell across her face and unbidden his hand reached up to brush it away. Molly stirred at his touch. He dropped his hand but instead of landing on the armrest it fell on top of Molly's hand. Sherlock didn't move it. Instead his thumb rubbed a gentle circle on the back of her hand. Suddenly he was reminded of Irene Adler. She had knelt just where he was kneeling, the fire warming them. They had also held hands but then Sherlock was more concerned about her physiological response and the deductions he could draw from it. Now he was focused on the sensation of Molly's skin and his own physiological response. As he thought his eyes were intent on their hands and so he didn't notice Molly's eye's flutter open.

She watched him quietly, willing her body not to move and somehow shatter this perfect moment. Molly had fallen asleep conflicted over Sherlock. She awoke to the man tenderly holding her hand and somehow all her confusion vanished. She wanted to speak but didn't know what to say. Suddenly Sherlock looked up at her. They looked at each other in silence for a long moment before Sherlock spoke in an unbelievably deep voice.

"Let's have dinner."

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**Cheers to Irene for giving him the idea. Hopefully he takes her somewhere better than the chip shop. Updating on this will probably be slow so make sure to follow if you like it. As always thanks for reading and review if convenient. **

**If inconvenient review anyway. **


	3. Chapter 3

Molly couldn't believe her ears. Her brain raced with her heart, trying to grasp the thought that Sherlock had just asked her to dinner. Unbidden she thought of the afternoon when Sherlock had asked her to solve crimes. Then she had been prepared for a dinner invitation but right now she was bewildered. Grinning she shook her head, at the sheer randomness of life.

Sherlock misunderstood her silence and her gesture. He frowned and released Molly's hand. Gripping the arm rests he stood in a fluid motion and was about to turn away. Then Molly's hand darted out grabbing his arm. He stiffened but didn't turn around.

"Sherlock I would love dinner." she said softly. Sherlock felt something tight in his chest loosen and an unexpected flood of happiness. Molly couldn't see it but Sherlock dropped the mask of indifference he had put in place and smiled a wide and genuine smile. Immediately he started to think of the appropriate restaurant for the time of day and Molly's current outfit. He was sorting through locations in his mind palace when Molly's voice startled him.

"This curry house looks good." he blinked and realized that Molly was now across the room sorting through take away menus. Neither John nor Sherlock had time or inclination to cook and over the years they had collected a large amount of delivery menus. Sherlock's forehead wrinkled in confusion but Molly was too engrossed in the menu to notice. He wondered if Molly was worried about being seen with him.

Molly wasn't thinking about secrecy at all. She was worried about Sherlock; he looked exhausted. Going out to dinner was out of the question. Plus she reasoned that she was also tired and hardly dressed for a proper dinner date.

"You want to eat here?" he asked emphasizing the last word by sweeping his hand over the cluttered rooms. Only then did Molly wonder if Sherlock was worried about her being seen in his flat. She hurried to reassure him.

"Everyone is out. I mean Lestrade took John out to a pub and Mrs. Hudson is shopping so…." Molly didn't know how to finish her sentence so she didn't. Choosing instead to focus on the menu in her hand.

Sherlock blinked slowly, taking in the new information and trying to ignore the twinge of frustration pulling at his heart.

"Okay." he said slowly and Molly glanced up "but I will choose the restaurant." She offered him the menus but he waved them away. Instead he pulled out his phone and dialed.

Molly tried to return the menus to their previous position on top of a stack of old mail. Her action upset the delicate balance of the tower and it all began slipping and falling. Molly attempted to prop it up but she only made it worse and soon the entire pile was on the floor. Color rushed to her face and she kneeled down quickly, trying to clean up the mess. Wondering why she always had to be so clumsy.

Sherlock watched the spectacle with a bemused expression. He enjoyed Molly's frustrated and flushed expression. It reminded him of the early days of their acquaintance when she seemed to always be pink and embarrassed. Then Sherlock had assumed that Molly was nothing more than a clumsy and socially awkward woman; only useful for body access and coffee delivery. So much had changed since those first impressions; Molly seemed almost a different person. It was nice to be reminded that she was still the same Molly.

By the time Sherlock had finished ordering Molly had managed to collect most of the mail into a pile. She was trying to figure out how to move the pile back to its perch when Sherlock knelt beside her. She felt the warmth of his body like ignighting the air between them. She looked at him sheepishly.

"Sorry. I made a bit of a mess."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Sherlock responded with a wry smile before picking up the entire pile and dropping it in the bin.

"You're not even going to sort it?" Molly asked incredulously.

"Boring."

Molly shook her head. "Right." she said "We wouldn't want things to get boring." she smiled but deep down an alarm rang in her heart. Would Sherlock get bored of her? She pushed the thought away.

"The food should arrive in forty minutes." Sherlock said evenly before walking to his bedroom. Some women would be annoyed at his abrupt exit but Molly understood Sherlock. He expected her to understand, without explanation, why he left the room. Molly made the obvious deduction that he was going to change, probably take his medication and maybe freshen up. She looked around the kitchen and realized if they were going to eat at the table she would need to do some tidying. She rolled up her sleeves and started to work. It was good to keep her mind and hands occupied. It prevented her from getting too nervous, from thinking too much. The forty minutes flew by.

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"Thank you." Molly said taking the plastic bags from the delivery boy and moving into the kitchen. Sherlock had emerged at the sound of the knock, his red dressing gown lazily tied over a shirt and jeans. He offered the kid a few notes but the guy put up his hand, refusing to take them.

"You know I can't. It's the rules. 221B Baker Street ain't allowed to pay."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Take it as a tip then." The guy just shook his head and turned on his heel before Sherlock could protest. Molly grinned at the exchange. She was fairly certain that Sherlock had picked this particular curry house not for it's excellent selection but because the owner was indebted to him in some way. She briefly wondered if between Mrs. Hudson and all his grateful clients Sherlock ever had to pay for his food.

She placed the plastic bags on the now clear table and started pulling out the cartons.

"It smells great." Molly exclaimed.

Sherlock turned and blinked in surprise at the cleared table. He looked a little annoyed but before he could speak Molly jumped in.

"Don't worry I put all the experiments and equipment away properly. I know you hate for your stuff to be moved but we needed a place to eat." she didn't look up as she dished out the food. Sherlock smiled down at her and when she looked up he didn't hide it. He was rewarded for this small act of bravery by a spark in Molly's eye and a wide smile.

They sat and ate in silence. Both were lost in their thoughts and neither even noticed the silence. When Sherlock was dating Janine he never enjoyed a silent meal. She was always telling stories or asking questions. It took a Herculean effort for him to engage in the conversation with anything approaching civility. Likewise Molly's time with Tom was filled with lots of mundane stories and chatter. Most of which Molly managed to tune out, which is why it took her so long to realize how average Tom's intelligence was. However Molly and Sherlock, after years of working together at St. Bart's, were as comfortable with silence as with conversation. In fact there were times when they both preferred the quiet.

Molly spent the silence thinking about her predicament with Sherlock. Slowly she was working up the courage to ask him why he was keeping her a secret.

As he ate Sherlock jumped between observing Molly and referencing things in his mind palace. He wanted to spend more time with her and had decided he needed to give her reasons to spend time with him. He deduced that this must be the point of dating, giving two people who enjoy each other's company an excuse to spend time together. Although he would have preferred they spend their time in the morgue, lab, or at Baker Street he deduced that Molly would want to "go out". He tried to discover the things she would like to do, the places she might want to visit, or the restaurants she might enjoy by referencing his memories. He was surprised to discover that he had very little data on Molly's personal likes or dislikes. Despite knowing her for years they had rarely talked about such things. Their conversations were mostly about the work or the favors Sherlock wanted. Most people volunteered information about themselves but Molly Hooper always waited to be asked. Of course Sherlock had never thought to ask which is why he knew so little. The detective realized he would need to learn more about Molly to plan appropriate dates. To accomplish that goal he broke the silence.

"Do you enjoy artistic renderings of abandoned buildings?" he asked.

"What?" Molly replied, startled from her own thoughts.

"Do you like photographs or paintings of ruined buildings?"

"Um. I don't know. Maybe? I would need some examples to really say for sure." Sherlock nodded and mentally added a visit to the Tate Modern's new exhibit to his list of date ideas.

"Are you fond of gardens?"

"Vegetable or decorative?" Molly countered with a bemused expression. She didn't know why Sherlock was asking but she was enjoying answering.

"Both."

"Decorative are okay. I prefer long stretches of grass and trees to the kind overloaded with flowers." Sherlock added a picnic to his list before launching into another question. In this way they finished their meal, Sherlock asking a startlingly specific question, followed by Molly's confused answer. By the time they stood to clear the table Sherlock was feeling very confident in his large collection of date possibilities.

Meanwhile Molly, distracted by Sherlock's questions, had forgotten about her plan to confront him. Instead she placed the dishes in the sink and turned around to face Sherlock who was just closing the fridge.

"Why the sudden interest in my likes and dislikes?" she asked.

"I am compiling a list of possible dating activities." Sherlock answered.

"Oh." Molly struggled not to sound surprised but Sherlock caught the tone in her voice.

His forehead wrinkled. "Is that suprising to you? I was under the impression that couples normally enjoy a variety of activities together."

Molly hated the way her heart leaped at the word "couples".

"They do. I just didn't think that we…well…um….that we…" Molly trailed off. She had assumed that keeping their relationship a secret would mean no real dating and didn't know how to explain her surprise without also talking about the secret.

"Do you not consider us a couple?" Sherlock asked. "Because I thought…well I was led to believe that you wanted to date me." Molly could hear the trace of hurt and growing indignation in Sherlock's voice and she rushed to reassure him. She took a step closer and fixed her eyes on his.

"No…I mean yes. Yes I want to be a couple." She said sincerely.

Sherlock felt a flood of relief at her words, happy to know that they were a couple. He became aware of Molly's nearness as an almost electric field sparking between them. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent that he identified with her. Then with a soft smile his hands grasped her face and pulled her lips to his.

The kiss started like most of their hospital kisses. Soft, undemanding, conveying a sense of contentment and belonging. But almost immediately it began to morph into something new. In the hospital Molly had been careful. Restraining her passion in deference to Sherlock's pain; she had kept the kisses short and chaste. But after days of confusion and wondering if Sherlock really wanted her, the touch of his lips sparked a fire she didn't even try to contain. She deepened the kiss and grabbed Sherlock's dressing gown pulling him closer. He responded by placing his hands on the small of her back. Their breathing quickened as their kisses became more intense. Molly was suddenly aware of being pressed into the fridge as they scrabbled to touch and taste with a frenzy. She felt cool air on her stomach and realized that Sherlock's long, dexterous, fingers had unbuttoned her blouse. The cold air was replaced by his warm hands rubbing and kneading.

If Molly had been capable of coherent thought she might have wondered just how experienced Sherlock was or worried about how quickly things were escalating. She might have even told Sherlock that he was still recovering and they should avoid anything too strenuous. Instead she let out a low moan which Sherlock swallowed into his demanding mouth.

If Sherlock had cared to observe he might have heard the sounds of Mrs. Hudson, John and Lestrade entering the flat. He might have noticed the way their feet drummed on the stairs in a manner that would indicate that John was not capable of standing on his own. He definitely would have heard their voices as they entered the flat and tried to maneuver John into his chair. Instead all he heard was the way Molly gulped in her breath and gasped or moaned when he touched the right places. All he noticed was the fascinating way her skin flushed when he trailed kisses down her neck.

Too caught up in each other, neither Sherlock nor Molly noticed the new occupants of the flat. However Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade noticed them, in fact it was hard for them to pay attention to anything else. Their lack of attention explains why John ended up tripping and landing with a loud thump and a string of expletives. Molly's eyes flew open at the noise. Sherlock was bent down, devoting his attention to her collarbone, so Molly had an unobstructed view of the flat and the frozen, shocked, faces of Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade.

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_**Thanks everyone for being patient and for all the lovely reviews. I promise I will respond when it isn't late at night and my laptop isn't about to die! **_

_**Hope you enjoyed this one. I kinda love the ending. =)**_

_**Review if convenient! **_


	4. Chapter 4

**A new chapter, way faster than I planned. Three cheers for procrastinating real work and doing this instead! =) Hope you enjoy!**

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Her body went rigid and her hands dropped from Sherlocks chest. She was suddenly very aware of her unbuttoned shirt and tangled hair. Her cheeks went a dark crimson and she tried to think of what to say. Meanwhile Sherlock was still devoting all his attention to her collarbone. She hit his shoulder in an effort to get him to stop. Sherlock let out a grunt and looked up. Seeing her shocked face he suddenly became alert. His mind jumping to CIA assassins or a dangerous, unsatisfied client.

In one fluid motion Sherlock straightened, tucking Molly behind him as he spun around to face the danger. Instead he was confronted with the sight of Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, still recovering from their shock. Relief flooded through him and he rapidly assessed the situation. It was unclear how long the DI and his land lady had been watching. He briefly considered pretending that he had been removing an eyelash or something equally preposterous that would maintain the secrecy Molly desired. However he felt such subterfuge was beneath him and, in truth, he didn't want to hide his feelings for Molly. Sherlock decided to proceeded as he usually did with unassailable confidence and a hint of superiority.

Of course if Sherlock had seen himself in the mirror he might have chosen a different tact. His hair was sticking up in odd angles, his mouth swollen and shiny and his skin flushed. His dressing gown hung limply from one shoulder and his shirt was untucked and half buttoned. But then again Sherlock had gone to Buckingham Palace in nothing but a sheet so perhaps his current disheveled state was of little concern.

"Lestrade. Mrs. Hudson." he acknowledged their presence calmly "Care for some tea?" At his question their shock dissolved into laughter. Mrs Hudson shaking her head and Lestrade throwing his head back. Sherlock quirked his mouth in a half grin and turned to Molly. She was also smiling. Just then John, pushed himself up off the ground

"Whadya laughing at?" he asked thickly with a confused expression on his face. This set everyone laughing even harder, even Sherlock chuckled. John only looked confused and slumped back to the floor. Greg and Mrs. Hudson recalled their original reason for entering the flat and moved to help the doctor into his chair.

While they were busy Molly attempted to make Sherlock more presentable. She had already rebutttoned her shirt and smoothed her hair, now she worked on Sherlock's buttons and hair while he tucked in his shirt and pulled his dressing gown back on. As a final measure she handed him a napkin to wipe his face.

"The one day you choose to wear lipstick." Sherlock teased.

"Is the one day you kiss me. Is there a correlation?" she joked back. They looked at each other smiling and momentarily forgetting the company in the room. A loud grunt from Lestrade brought them back to reality.

Sherlock crossed the room in a few strides and shooed Mrs. Hudson out of the way. For the first time he looked at John and realized he was passed out.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Too much to drink. I knew he was a lightweight but I thought we would last longer than two hours." Greg explained. Sherlock did the calculations rapidly in his head. Concluding that John must have been drinking throughout the day and given his depressed state he probably hadn't eaten much. Sherlock sighed. He was at a loss on how to help his friend. For the moment he decided to let John sleep and hoped that he would feel better in the morning.

"Help me take him to his room." Sherlock said. Greg nodded and the two men carried him out and up the stairs.

As soon as they disappeared Mrs. Hudson rushed to Molly

"Molly! What is going on?" she asked in a rushed whisper. Molly momentarily thought about maintaining the secret but it seemed rather pointless after the last ten minutes.

"Well…um…I'm dating Sherlock." she said a goofy grin blooming across her face. It felt so good to say it out loud,

"Oh!" Mrs. Hudson's hands flew to her mouth and her eyebrows disappeared into her hair. The older landlady had known Sherlock Holmes for a long time and in all that time he never had girlfriends or even one night stands. She had long ago concluded that he wasn't interested in women. When Janine started coming around the poor woman had been very confused. But since that relationship had proven to be a fake she couldn't help but worry about the sweet young woman before her.

"Molly dear. Are you sure it is all on the up and up? she asked. Molly's smile dropped. "It's just that, well, it's Sherlock. I don't want you to be hurt." the older lady finished by grabbing Molly's hand and patting it.

Molly understood the land lady's worries because they echoed her own. She shrugged her shoulders and looked past the lady into the flat.

"I love him. And I think he wants to try and love me." she looked down into the woman's care worn eyes. "I know he is Sherlock but I think…well I think he genuinely likes me. No tricks."

Mrs. Hudson gave her a nod and dropped her hand. Then she walked over to the cupboards.

"Now, lets see about some tea."

Upstairs Sherlock and Lestrade had just managed to arrange John Watson on the bed. They paused, catching their breath and stared at the good doctor.

"So. You and Molly?" Lestrade said gruffly.

"Yes." Came the vague response.

"Is it serious?"

"Yes."

"You hurt her and I will shoot you." Lestrade turned to face Sherlock so the detective would know he meant business. Sherlock met his eyes levelly and nodded.

"Understood."

Lestrade nodded. "Good." Then he turned and left the room.

Sherlock stayed for a minute thinking over the conversation. He had no intention of hurting Molly but he was acutely aware that within this new experiment was the potential for explosive results. He might hurt Molly or Molly might hurt him. It was the bleak scenario that Mycroft always painted when he spoke of sentiment and affection. It was a logical argument and one Sherlock had often agreed with but spending two years away from Mycroft and his friends had changed Sherlock. He now understood that he craved affection, wanted attachment in a way that Mycroft did not. He thought that desire was limited to friendships but in the last month Molly had awakened something new; something he wanted to explore and understand. Sherlock had always been curious about romantic love but his motivation for continuing with Molly wasn't just curiosity. It felt more like a need akin to his addiction to cases or drugs. This need felt like a wild thing and it both scared and excited him.

"Yoo-hoo Sherlock. Do you want some tea?" Mrs. Hudson called from the bottom of the stairs. Instead of answering Sherlock left the room and bounded down the stairs. The movement jarred his stomach and Sherlock gritted his teeth through the pain. Mrs. Hudson shook her head.

"Be careful. You can't be bounding about in your condition."

Sherlock shook off her warning and headed into the kitchen. Molly was standing with her back to him, talking to Lestrade. Suddenly the pain faded, replaced by a rush of endorphins. He walked up and, after a brief hesitation, slipped his hand around her waist. It was a gesture he had learned to do with Janine but it had always felt awkward. Somehow, with Molly, it felt natural.

Molly stiffened at Sherlock's touch. She wasn't sure how to respond with Greg and Mrs. Hudson in the room. She didn't want to do the wrong thing. She looked nervously up at Sherlock. He looked down with a question in his eyes. In that moment Molly realized that Sherlock was also nervous and unsure. The thought of the ever confident detective sharing her insecurities made her smile and she felt her fear evaporating. Her body relaxed and she leaned into his solid frame, her hand resting on top of his. She felt him release a sigh and she couldn't help but smile.

"So." Greg began, his eyes lingering on their hands on Molly's hip "How long has this been going on?"

"Since the day I got shot." Sherlock responded smoothly.

"What? Really?" Lestrade exclaimed.

"Molly why didn't you say anything?" Mrs. Hudson chimed in. Sherlock looked at Molly curious to learn if she would reveal why she had wanted to keep everything a secret.

"Well Sherlock wanted to keep it a secret." Molly responded. Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Please. Molly. You were the one who didn't want to tell anybody." he replied.

She looked up at him in confusion, while Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson smiled.

"No I didn't! I never said that. You were embarrassed of me." she protested.

"Why would I be embarrassed of you? I was trying to respect your desire to keep it a secret." Sherlock replied.

"Why would you think I..." Molly would have continued but was interrupted by Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh. Don't fight. It's all settled now and the whys don't matter."

Sherlock opened his mouth to argue but Mrs. Hudson ignored him.

"The important thing is that you were both trying to make the other happy." she clasped her hands in front of her face and smiled.

"She's right." Lestrade chimed in "Focus on the fact that you were both being unselfish."

Sherlock and Molly looked at each other. They both knew that this conversation wasn't over, they were too stubborn and detail oriented to not talk it through. They also realized that right now the only thing that mattered was that they could be open about their relationship. Molly smiled first and Sherlock shrugged his shoulders in response.

"So what does John have to say about all this?" Lestrade asked.

At the mention of the good doctor Molly and Sherlock's faces fell. The man's marriage had just imploded and even Sherlock Holmes recognized that he might not enjoy learning about their new relationship. But Sherlock knew that lying was not going to work; sooner or later John would catch on.

"I will let you know tomorrow after we tell him." Sherlock replied giving Molly the slightest of squeezes. She responded with an unsteady smile. She was not looking forward to the conversation.

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**Poor John! The episode makes it seem like John and Mary didn't really talk until Christmas so I assume he moved back in with Sherlock. Hopefully he isn't too bitter and the conversation goes well! Thanks again for reading, following, favorite-ing, and reviewing. It is humbling to know you are enjoying my little offerings. And of course, Review if convenient.  
**

**IF inconvenient review anyway =)**


	5. Chapter 5

The cold quiet of the morgue settled the nervous flutters in Molly's stomach. The ritualized methodology of the autopsy numbed her frazzled mind. Molly tried not to think about the imminent arrival of her boyfriend (even in her mind the term felt awkward) and his blogger. Before she left Baker Street the night before, Sherlock had informed her that he would "bring John around for lunch. We can talk to him then." Molly was dreading the conversation.

As she began to close her Y incision the door of the morgue burst open, framing Sherlock. His coat collar was turned up and his eyes were bright. He breezed up to the table with an all too familiar bounce in his step. Molly smiled, realizing he had a case, and waited for him to pull evidence bags from his coat pocket. When his hands appeared they were empty and Molly furrowed her brow in confusion.

Sherlock was about to place his hands on Molly's shoulders and give her a kiss on the cheek but her confused look brought him up short. He stood, his hands raised awkwardly, and wondered if Molly didn't want him displaying his affection at St. Bart's.

"You have a case?" she asked.

Sherlock lowered his hands even more confused.

"No. I'm here for lunch."

"Oh." Molly flushed and looked back down at her work. She could scarcely believe that the light in his eyes and spring in his step was all for her. It wasn't for lab results, or autopsy reports it was because he was seeing her.

Sherlock watched her work and noted the flush in her skin. He tried to deduce why Molly wouldn't want him to touch her at work. He came up with several theories before he recalled the mess his last assumption about Molly had caused. With a little more thought he decided that when it came to Molly it would be best to ask.

"Molly."

"Hmmm…" she didn't look up.

"What level of physical affection are you comfortable with in the workplace?" Molly glanced up to make sure Sherlock was being serious.

"Well I think I am comfortable with a normal amount." she replied. Sherlock sighed.

"What does that mean? Normal could range from shaking hands to having sex." At the word "sex" Molly jerked her head up, practically giving herself whiplash.

"Sorry. What?" she hissed.

"I need you to be specific about what physical affection I am allowed to show at St. Barts." Sherlock's tone was matter of fact.

"Sherlock. Do you want to have sex in the morgue?" Even as she said the words it sounded ludicrous but she didn't know what else Sherlock could possibly be implying.

"No! I was just… I mean…unless you want too."

"No! I mean…I wasn't suggesting." she stammered.

"I can see how it might appeal to you. There are lots of flat surfaces, it is very clean, and neither of us have an aversion to dead bodies. Additionally the cold temperature could provide an interesting contrast to the excessive body heat and the acoustics might be very…" Sherlock broke off his rambling. Analyzing the morgue had brought up some very clear mental images and he needed a moment to sort through them.

Molly focused on her work and struggled to overcome her shock. Hearing Sherlock casually analyze the morgue as a location for sex made her realize that he was expecting to have sex with her. Her world was being turned on it's head. She looked at Sherlock and realized he had entered his mind palace. His face was flushed and he was in deep concentration. She took the opportunity to put away the body and finish up the paperwork.

"Yes." Sherlock startled her with his loud pronouncement.

"Yes what?" she asked.

"Yes I would like to attempt sex in the morgue. Obviously not for our first time, but eventually, maybe when we are in need of a change. Of course only if you are comfortable with the idea."

"Sherlock! Why are we talking about this?" Molly's face had turned uncomfortably hot.

"You asked me if I wanted to have sex in the morgue."

"No you asked me!"

"I asked you to tell me what level of physical affection you were comfortable with at work."

Molly couldn't remember his precise words but she was positive that he mentioned sex first. She didn't understand how they got themselves into these messes.

"Why did you ask me about physical affection?"

"Because when I arrived you didn't seem receptive to me touching you. I thought it best to ask why so we could avoid confusion!" Sherlock's voice rose a little and bounced around the room.

Molly let out a sigh and shook her head.

"Oh. Sherlock. We are a right pair aren't we?" Wordlessly she stepped close to him and slid her arms inside his coat, linking her hands around his waist. She tipped her head and looked up into his face. He smiled down at her.

"I would like to keep it professional around others. So light kisses and brief touching, okay?" Sherlock nodded.

"However when we are alone…" Molly pressed her body into him and smiled wickedly. Sherlock grinned back and bent down to kiss her.

The kiss was brief but both felt the suppressed desire it contained. Molly stepped away and looked at her watch.

"We should get going. Is John meeting us there?"

"No he came with me."

"Well where is he?" Molly looked around as if she expected him to to be hiding somewhere.

"Stamford." Sherlock said. It was just a name but for Sherlock it told a story. They had run into Stamford on the way to the morgue. John had stopped to chat and be polite while Sherlock had continued on. Molly, either from long association or cleverness, understood exactly what the single word meant. Her stomach clenched and she let out a groan.

"What?" Sherlock asked, oblivious to the danger.

"Dr. Stamford. He walked in on us kissing the day you got shot, remember?" Sherlock remembered the kissing but not Stamford.

"He knows we're dating. He asks me about it every time I see him."

Suddenly Sherlock understands his mistake. There is no way Mike Stamford won't talk to John about Molly and Sherlock. His carefully constructed speech, breaking the news gently, will no longer be needed. Mike is bound to reveal the information callously and with the expectation that John already knows. So not only will John know but he will feel like he has been kept out of the loop. Sherlock calculates how long the two men have been talking hoping he could intervene. But he has been with Molly too long and realizes it is too late. He looks at Molly in frustrated defeat.

"Better hide anything he can use as a weapon."

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**Welcome to all the new followers! Glad you are enjoying the story. This chapter is a bit short but hopefully it was fun! Thanks for reading and thanks for your fun reviews! I love hearing from you! **


	6. Chapter 6

While Sherlock and Molly rushed about concealing bone saws, scalpels, and long needles, a relatively calm John Watson talked with Mike Stamford. Catching up with Mike Stamford was lifting his spirits. True he hadn't listened to much of what the man said but with Mike that never really mattered. He rarely said anything worth remembering and often repeated himself. The conversation made him happier because it reminded John that he did have ordinary, regular, friends. Friends not associated with danger or life-or-death situations. Because, despite Sherlock's reasoning to the contrary, John Watson did not think that he was some kind of danger addict. He felt Mike was his proof.

Of course John was ignoring the fact that talking to Mike felt like driving a nail into his forehead. An experience he got through by muttering generic responses and not really listening.

"So we will probably just wait until Spring." Mike declared at the end of a long story about his vacation plans.

"Ya. That sounds good." John said. His mind rejoicing at the normalcy of the conversation, even as he practically ignored it.

"How are Molly and Sherlock getting on?"

"Good. Ya they are good." John replied not understanding Mike's meaning.

"I was pretty surprised…." John, expecting a long exposition about Mike's thoughts on Sherlock in the morgue, had tuned out at this point. Thus missing the entire story of Mike finding the pair kissing and his subsequent thoughts on the couple. Instead John thought about the last time he had been in St. Barts. How concerned and angry he had been with Sherlock. The way Mary had looked at him with compassion from across the lab. At the memory of Mary he found himself gripping the thumb drive in his pocket. He turned his attention back to Mike, desperate to think of anything else.

"But they are adults and I say live and let live."

"Absolutely. " John said, not sure what he was agreeing too.

"Look mate I got to run. Nice seeing you and say "hi" to Mary for me."

John only nodded, the mention of Mary causing his grip on the thumb drive to tighten. He turned and headed to the morgue. Sherlock had dragged him to St. Barts with the promise of a case and John was desperately hoping for something to banish the ever present thoughts of Mary. He walked into the morgue with a scowl on his face, his head still full of his lying wife, his concentration on the unread contents of the thumb drive.

As he entered the morgue Molly and Sherlock, having heard his approach, were waiting standing side by side. As the doors swung open Molly slipped her hand into Sherlock's, she wanted to show a united front. Sherlock squeezed her hand before firing off a speech in his rapid staccato.

"John. I understand that you are upset but know that I fully intended on telling you. Please do not feel that we were hiding anything from you specifically. We were hiding it from everyone. Given your present emotional state I understand if you can not express excitement however as my friend I hoped that you…" Sherlock would have continued but he was brought up short by Molly squeezing his hand tightly. He stopped and looked at John's very confused face.

"Sherlock what are you on about? What have you been hiding?" he said. Sherlock's face fell and he glanced at Molly, unsure how to proceed. John caught the glance which made him noticed how close Molly was standing to Sherlock. Then his eyes darted down to their clasped hands. His eyes bulged.

"I've missed something haven't I?" He looked at both of them waiting for an explanation. His own mind refusing to process what their interlocked hands might mean.

"So Dr. Stamford didn't tell you?" Molly asked her clear voice filling the silence.

"Tell me WHAT?" John's voice rose, These days his anger, which was never entirely in control, was always jumping to the surface. "What does bloody Mike Stamford know that I don't? Is this another one of your lies eh? Another elaborate plot that you didn't think I should know about?" John stalked across the room and slammed his hand down on an empty metal table. Then not satisfied he hit the table again and then kicked it for good measure. Sherlock, wisely, remained silent. Molly had never seen John so angry and she was suddenly very glad the scalpels were no longer on that table.

"Jesus Sherlock! All you ever do is lie to me. You have to be the worst bloody friend on the planet!"

Molly opens her mouth, to defend Sherlock, but a quick squeeze of her hand stops her. Sherlock is used to these rants. Barely a day went by when John didn't blame him, in some way, for the current mess his life was in. Sherlock didn't take any of it personally. He understood that sometimes John just needed to rage.

John Watson, for all his good qualities, was a difficult man to live with. Outsiders who looked at the Holmes and Watson dynamic often wondered how John put up with Sherlock. Few stopped to consider that perhaps John was equally difficult, although in his own way.

After lifting the metal table and slamming it back to the ground John walked back to the silent pair.

"What no jokes? No defense?" John paused breathing deeply. His eyes fixed on Sherlock.

"I don't know, something about waking the dead." Sherlock deadpanned. Molly giggled. She couldn't help herself. John was not amused. He turned to Molly and stepped toward her his eyes blazing.

In one fluid movement Sherlock stepped between them. He didn't speak or raise his hands but he suddenly seemed menacing. He stared down at John with a hard look in his eyes, warning him. It reminded Molly of a David Attenborough documentary she had watched where two lions fought for dominance on the Serengeti.

From their cases John knew that Sherlock's thin frame hid a formidable fighter. Only a few weeks ago he had watched him slam his older brother against a doorframe but John had never felt physically threatened by his friend-until now. Because as he looked up into Sherlock's eyes he didn't doubt that the man would snap him in two. He took a step back, his anger replaced by astonishment. In a blink of an eye Sherlock's expression and posture slipped back to normal. John rubbed his face, suddenly feeling very tired and very confused.

He sighed. "Hows about we forget I did all that and start over?"

Sherlock smiled and turned to Molly. She nodded. Sherlock took a deep breath.

"Molly and I are dating."

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yes ok. Now, why are you dating? What is the plan? Is this to catch Magnusson?" John asked.

"No. We are dating because…well for the normal reasons." Sherlock responded after some hesitation.

"Right. Like you were "dating" Janine..."

"John this is entirely different."

John shook his head in disbelief. "You know Molly he is a bloody good actor. He had Janine…hell he had me convinced that he was interested in her."

John had always liked the younger pathologist and always prayed she would get over her crush on Sherlock. Now he felt that Sherlock was taking advantage of her good heart. John didn't know what his friend's plan was but he felt it was his duty to save her from inevitable heartache. A heartache he knew all too well. He locked eyes with her, pleading for her to understand.

"When I told him that Janine loved him, he told me it was human error. That is how he views emotion. He isn't like us. He doesn't feel the way we do."

Molly shook her head. "You are wrong John. You don't mean that. Your heart is broken and you are projecting your own insecurities."

John opened his mouth to protest but Molly cut him off. "No. I want you to listen. I have known Sherlock longer than you and I believe him when he says he wants to be with me. I know what kind of man he is and I still want to be with him. As his best friend I thought you would be supportive."

Molly turned to Sherlock for approval, unsure if she had crossed a line in her speech. Sherlock's eyes sparkled and he leaned down brushing his lips to her forehead.

"Thank you Molly." he said. She smiled up at him and they both forgot that John was there.

It was only then, staring at the oblivious couple, that John realized his mistake. He had been operating under the assumption that any relationship between Sherlock and Molly would stem from Molly's desire to be with Sherlock and Sherlock's need to use her for a case. It hadn't occurred to him that Sherlock might actually have feelings for the pathologist. Once he shifted his perspective he couldn't help but catalogue the many ways Sherlock had shown his feelings for Molly.

He thought of Sherlock's apology that fateful Christmas. He contemplated the detective's almost obsessive preoccupation with her boyfriends, lipstick preference, and weight. He recalled the way Sherlock never criticized or analyzed Tom. He pondered the significance of Molly being the person Sherlock turned to and relied on when he faked his death. To all that he added how Sherlock had called Molly's name in the hospital and how, while still under morphine, the detective had asked him how you knew you were in love. Finally he remembered something Mary had said in that very hospital.

They had stepped out to decide what should be done about Sherlock, Isaac, and the man with the sprained arm.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"What?" John replied, worried his sweet wife had realized he was the one who had hurt the kid.

"The slapping!"

"Oh. I dunno I guess she was pretty upset."

"Ya but Sherlock just took it. He just let her slap him. Is there something going on between them? I mean is that why she broke up with Tom?"

"Are you mental? Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper? I mean, she used to have a crush on him but I think they are just co-workers now."

Mary shook her head. "No there is something going on. He likes her, as more than a friend, trust me."

The conversation had then moved on to more pressing matters. Looking back on all these things John Watson felt like an idiot.

"Mary was right." he muttered. Sherlock and Molly looked up.

"Sorry. What?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing. It's nothing. I just realized that I should have seen this coming."

Molly laughed and Sherlock wrinkled his forehead.

"How could you have predicted our relationship?" he asked.

"I am the one who understands people, remember. All the signs were there. I only missed them because it was you." John replied with a grin.

"Signs. What signs?"

"You see but you do not observe." came the coy response. Molly laughed again, happy that the two seemed to have made up. John was no longer angry and was really enjoying the opportunity to rib Sherlock. Before Sherlock could give his scathing response Molly stepped in.

"Can we go to lunch now? Some of us have a job that frowns on tardiness."

John and Sherlock both shrugged and headed for the door letting the conversation drop.

Of course Sherlock planned to ask John about these supposed "signs" but it could wait until they returned to Baker Street. All things considered the conversation had gone rather well and Sherlock felt that the biggest hurdle in their relationship was cleared. But Sherlock Holmes is not an expert in human nature or relationships and thus was not properly prepared for what came next.

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**I feel like there should be dramatic music after that last sentence! But never fear this story isn't about to take a dark turn! It will be normal relationship stuff, just not stuff Sherlock is used to. Hopefully this scene worked for you. It probably could have gone several ways but I felt that this was the most in character (feel free to disagree). John is one angry, messed up guy right now! (PM me if you want to hear my thoughts about John, anger, and PTSD-there isn't enough room here!). As always thanks for the favorites and follows they pump me up! Almost as much as reviews! Seriously you guys are great. **

**Review if convenient. If inconvenient review anyway!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Finally an update! A thousand thanks to my new beta Way Worse Than Scottish and my pal Roxyxena007 for keeping me motivated.**

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Molly Hooper's room was a disaster zone. Her entire closet seemed to have exploded- scattering clothes and shoes everywhere. She shoved some of it aside to make a space on her bed and flung herself back to stare at the ceiling. She wondered when picking an outfit to wear had become so hard.

After years of pining, followed by years of "moving on", and a few intense weeks of keeping it a secret, tonight was her first official, public date with Sherlock Holmes. She wanted to dress for the occasion but nothing felt right. She was nervous, excited and now with only a half-hour left before Sherlock arrived, she was on the verge of tears.

Toby jumped on the bed and she absently stroked his back as she contemplated canceling the date entirely. She heard a faint knock at her door and groaned. Realizing the only thing worse than not having the right dress was answering the door in her natty old robe.

The knock continued, getting more agitated and louder the longer she waited. Molly grudgingly headed for her door. She was happy that at least her makeup and hair were done as she pulled open the door.

"Mary!" she gasped in surprise when she saw the petite blonde.

"Hello, Molly. Can I come in?" she gestured with her hands, which carried a shopping bag.

"Yes, of course." Molly pulled the door open for her.

"I won't stay long. I know you have a date with Sherlock tonight." She spoke swiftly; as if she was afraid Molly would cut her off. "I just saw this in the window and thought it would look perfect on you."

Molly shook her head in confusion. She couldn't quite fathom the situation.

"Um…How did you…?" She trailed off. There were so many questions to be asked.

"Know about you and Sherlock?" she asked, smiling brightly. "Well, Mrs. Hudson couldn't wait to share the news after she…um…discovered you two." Mary giggled, an excited gleam in her eyes. "Tonight's date is a source of much debate at Baker Street. John…" Mary's voice strained slightly at the mention of her husband. Her good mood had disappeared entirely. "Well, he and Mrs. Hudson are tutoring Sherlock on dating etiquette. It is, apparently, something he knows shockingly little about." She struggled to grin.

Mary didn't want to cry, but the thought of John lecturing Sherlock about dating made her eyes sting. She missed her husband terribly and her pregnancy hormones were not helping matters. Mary Watson was a tough woman but her marriage _and_ her life were disintegrating and she didn't have a single person in the world to confide in.

Molly saw the shine of unshed tears and her heart ached for Mary. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around her in a consoling hug. Mary clung to the pathologist and let her tears escape, making a damp spot on Molly's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. It's just…everything." Mary said as she pulled away and wiped her eyes.

"I know." Molly replied. Mary paused and looked at her quizzically.

"You do know, don't you?" Molly nodded. "All of it? I mean Sherlock told you everything?" she asked, just to be sure.

"Yes. I hope that's alright. He needed help in the hospital and afterwards I asked him how it went." Molly tried to explain. Mary only looked at her with amazement.

"You don't seem to mind," she said, almost in awe.

"Mind?" Molly asked

.

"That you're in a room with an assassin." Molly laughed and then stopped when she saw the look on Mary's face.

"Sorry." she said "It's just…I mean…I know who you are. Well I guess I don't really know you all that well, but… there are a lot of bad people in the world. You, Mary Watson, are not one of them." Mary's eyes filled with tears as Molly continued. "And John will see that. He will!" She said, making Mary look her in the eyes. "Just give him time."

"Thank you Molly." she said as she brushed her tears away. "Now, go try on that dress."

A few miles away, Sherlock Holmes stood at the window of his flat. His violin was cradled under his chin but his bow arm was slack at his side. He had put on his purple shirt and black slacks over an hour ago, more than eager to begin his evening with Molly. John had cautioned him on arriving early and so he was attempting to pass the time by playing. But he was restless and unable to concentrate on the instrument.

John rustled his newspaper and Sherlock sighed.

"What?" the detective asked.

"I didn't say anything." John countered.

"Yes but you were thinking. Loudly." Sherlock replied as he began to put his violin away. John only grinned in response. Sherlock flung himself into his chair and glared at John. John let out a low chuckle.

"You are nervous." he said.

"Don't be absurd. What do I have to be nervous about? I have spent countless hours with Molly. Why would the prospect of spending more time with her make me nervous?" Sherlock asked.

"Dates are different. There are expectations, social conventions…"

Sherlock cut him off. "Spare me the lecture." He bolted out of his chair and headed for his room. Ever since learning about the change in Molly and Sherlock's relationship John had been dispensing advice. Sherlock believed he was enjoying finally being the expert on something. Generally, Sherlock pretended to be annoyed with John's information but in reality he carefully cataloged every tidbit for reference. But tonight he really was nervous and couldn't stand to sit still.

Sherlock's choice of dating activity was based on careful consultation of both his preferences and Molly's. He had planned for every variable and was fairly certain that the date would be a success. But at the back of his mind he couldn't help remembering the disaster of John's stag night. He had been certain that would be a success too. Sherlock removed his dressing gown and stared in the mirror as he retreated into his mind palace to think, wondering if he had time to change his plans. He was roused by John's knock on the door.

"Uh. Sherlock? You are going to be late." he said.

Sherlock spun on his heel and rushed out the door, practically knocking John over.

"I won't wait up." John called after him.

Molly was almost ready when Sherlock knocked at the door. The dress Mary brought was a deep emerald, thin strapped with a full skirt and not too short. Molly was amazed at the way the color warmed her skin and the cut hugged her curves. When Molly emerged from the bedroom to show Mary she found the woman was gone. Sighing Molly picked up her phone and shot a quick text.

_The dress is perfect! You are wonderful. Let me buy you lunch as a thank you!_

While she waited for a response, Molly fished out a pair of gold sandals to pair with the dress. They weren't her most practical footwear but they looked fantastic. She was putting them on when she heard Sherlock's knock. She rushed to the door, pulling her coat on as she went. She paused, took a deep breath and opened the door.

There stood Sherlock, in her favorite shirt with his wild curls neatly tamed. She watched his eyes flick over her. Despite being used to his rapid scrutiny, Molly couldn't help but feel like she was being evaluated. She worried when a slight frown crossed his face as he took in her shoes. But it disappeared quickly when he looked up. He smiled softly, nervously.

"You look different." he said, running a hand through his hair. "I mean good. You look good. Well more than good…" He shook his head in frustration. John's first rule of dating was to start with a compliment. 30 seconds in and Sherlock was already having issues. He decided to move onto the second rule; bring flowers. Of course Sherlock thought flowers to be a waste of money so he had modified the rule to suit himself.

"Here. This is for you." he said as he thrust a book into Molly's hands. She looked down, puzzled and removed the single red ribbon tied around it.

"Execution: Tools and Techniques" she read the title out loud.

"Yes. I thought you would like it." Sherlock replied. His nerves now were evident to Molly. She smiled and leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank You. I love it." she said. Sherlock smiled and when Molly turned away he let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"I'll just put it on the coffee table and then we can go." Molly stepped back into her apartment and Sherlock followed. As he stood he caught a whiff of a strange scent. He inhaled, once, twice, to confirm his suspicion. Molly, back from her living room stared at him questioningly.

"Mary was here." He said. She nodded. Sherlock wanted to ask more but decided that the fractured marriage of his best friend was not a good topic for a first date. Instead he clapped his hands together.

"Ready?"

The evening began at an elegant restaurant. Molly felt a thrill of excitement when Sherlock took her coat. She was so busy taking in her surroundings that she missed the appreciative look he gave her dress. He leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"I think I like this better than your lab coat." She blushed furiously at the simple compliment. He smiled and offered her his arm.

Dinner flew by. Molly quickly forgot the pressures of the date and was soon enjoying talking and laughing with Sherlock. Their conversation never flagged and Sherlock never felt the need to introduce any of his carefully planned conversation starters. He amused Molly with stories of his cases and by sharing his deductions of their fellow diners. When the last bite of dessert was finished, Molly couldn't help but be surprised at how easy and natural everything was.

She sighed contentedly as they walked out of the restaurant, their hands interlaced.

"Are you ready for the activity portion of the date?" Sherlock asked as they waited for a cab.

"What?" Molly asked. She thought dinner was more than enough for one evening.

"John says that a date can't just be dinner. There must be an activity."

"Oh. Sure. I am up for whatever you have planned."

When the black cab pulled up outside of the club, Molly was surprised. The place looked posh and very popular. A long line of limos and cold people waited outside the entrance.

"We are going to a club?" she asked.

"Yes." Sherlock responded evenly.

They climbed out of the cab and were greeted by a large, black man. "Mr. Holmes. Everything arranged. If you will just follow me." he said. Molly wanted to ask how Sherlock knew the man but the moment they walked through the doors the air was filled with pulsating sound.

The large man pushed through the crowds, eventually leading them to a more secluded section full of semi-circle couches. He gestured to the couches and the drinks on the table before shaking Sherlock's hand and walking away.

The lights in the club were very low and the music incredibly loud. On the dance floor below, bodies surged in a steamy mass. Sherlock sat and Molly followed. She was too preoccupied to notice the look of confusion on Sherlock's face. She grabbed her drink and sipped, knowing she was already buzzed from her wine at dinner. She wondered why Sherlock had chosen this club. It was certainly not her scene, even in uni she had rarely gone out to clubs. She preferred relaxed pubs where she could laugh and talk. As she thought, two gorgeous women in their mid-twenties walked by. They wore clothes that left little to the imagination and both stared at Sherlock as they passed. Molly was grateful when the consulting detective didn't seem to notice them. Molly made sure they got the right idea by sliding closer to Sherlock and wrapping her arm around him. Molly felt Sherlock's arms tighten around her and she smiled into his shirt. The young models took the hint and moved on.

They sat in silence for almost half an hour. Molly watched the people and slowly developed a headache while Sherlock tried to figure out his next move. Sherlock had intended on taking Molly dancing. From his pointed questions he knew that she enjoyed dancing but was not proficient. Since Sherlock loved dancing, his plan was to teach her some of his favorites. His research had led him to book a VIP space in the most exclusive dance club in the city. However upon arrival Sherlock realized that this was not the type of dancing he wanted to do with Molly. This dancing was formless, sweaty, and base. However Sherlock did not know how to salvage the situation. He didn't want to admit his error and he also didn't know where he could go to dance with Molly properly. He was on the verge of texting John for assistance when Molly stirred. She brought her lips to his ear and shouted.

"My head hurts. Can we go?"

With gratitude Sherlock nodded. He signaled to a different bouncer who led them out of the club.

Once on the street they both breathed a sigh of relief. When they were back in yet another cab Molly turned to him. "Sorry. Sherlock." she said.

"It's fine." he replied.

"No. It was a lovely thought. I just…well I don't really like clubs like that," she told him honestly, hoping she didn't hurt his feelings.

"I don't either." he said.

"Really? Then why did you take me there?"

"I was misinformed. I thought it was a place where we could dance," he admitted, his head drooping a little.

"Oh."

"I mean really dance."

"Oh" she said and the cab returned to silence. Molly could tell that Sherlock felt the entire evening ruined. She didn't want to tell him that it didn't matter but she knew that if they didn't dance he would feel like a failure. She thought of places they could dance and suddenly a thought struck her. She got the cabbies attention and gave him a new address.

Sherlock looked at her with his eyebrow raised.

"I know just the place." she said with a grin.

When the cab pulled up in front of the building there were no limos or lines of people. Only a few dim lights burned.

"Molly where are we?" Sherlock asked.

"It's a community center." she replied before grabbing his hand and pulling him from the curb. As they walked she explained.

"They do dance lessons every Friday night. I think we missed the actual lessons but we are probably just in time for the dancing."

They entered a large gymnasium with only half of its lights on. On the floor there were just over a dozen couples, each dancing with varying degrees of ability, and all over the age of sixty. Sherlock looked at Molly. This dreary community center was miles away from the elegant evening he had planned. Molly looked happy and content, watching the couples with a bright light in her eyes. Sherlock shrugged, removed their coats and bowed to Molly.

"May I have this dance Ms. Hooper?"

* * *

**A HUGE thanks to anyone who has read, reviewed, followed, or favorited. I am almost ashamed to admit how happy it makes me! You are all beautiful and lovely for patiently waiting for this update. Hope you enjoyed this installment and a special shout out to Jack2495 for the dating suggestion. I am happy their first date wasn't a total disaster. Also can we talk about how clueless Sherlock is about regular things like the solar system, drinking, and dance clubs? Let me know your thoughts. As always...**

**Review if convenient**

**IF inconvenient review anyways =)**


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